


If You Love Me (Let Me Go)

by Pippin



Series: Make It a Good One [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:46:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6795358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippin/pseuds/Pippin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the fear of falling apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Love Me (Let Me Go)

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for mentions of suicide
> 
> So, this is an alternate ending for chapter 13 of Eyes/the fic in general (which is why it's tagged as canon divergence; it's a divergence from my own canon). You don't necessarily have to have read Eyes to understand this, but that's the context. Those of you who have read Eyes, the first 700 or so words are the same as chapter 13, but the rest is completely different.

John had tried desperately to get to Alexander, but the EMTs hadn’t allowed him.  Instead, he was forced to head back to his apartment to get his car so he could head to the hospital. 

He had to stop in the apartment to grab his car keys and his phone before heading to the hospital.  The drive was quick—in fact, he didn’t even really remember most of it, just getting in his car and ending up under the glaring lights of the waiting room.

John felt like he had spent far too much time in the goddamn hospital already—all the days before finding out about Alexander’s aphasia and the days following his first suicide attempt.

Neither time had been nearly as nerve-wracking as this.  With the first situation John had been terrified, but the threat of Alexander dying hadn’t been the same.  With the second, Alexander had already been stabilized by the time John had gotten there.

He couldn’t get the shouts of “he’s flatlining!” out of his head.  God almighty, no matter what happened, that phrase would haunt John’s dreams.

He stared at his phone, clasped between his hands in a sort of desperation.  He knew that everyone else was enjoying themselves at the party, but he couldn’t do this alone—he was torn.

Finally, John decided to call Eliza.  He knew that she wouldn’t mind.

“Hey, John.”  John was surprised at how sober she sounded before remembering that she was the designated driver.  “Where’d you and Alexander get to?  Off having fun somewhere?”

John’s nerves were too strung out to handle either Eliza’s words or her suggestive tone—he burst into tears.

“John?”

“We’re at the hospital.  Alexander…again…I don’t even know if he’s alive.  God almighty, Eliza, there was so much blood.  And the last thing that I heard was that he was flatlining and I just don’t know…I can’t…”

“I’m on my way,” Eliza promised.

“You don’t have to leave the party for my sake,” John protested, but Eliza cut him off.

“You need me more than the party does.  That’s what friends are for.”

Eliza stayed on the phone with John until the moment she stepped into the waiting room.  Upon seeing her, John started crying again, wracking sobs, and Eliza rushed over to gather him into her arms, letting him cling to her and sob into her shoulder.  She stroked his hair while he cried, a calming gesture.

They sat there for about an hour, Eliza holding John in silence.  She knew that words would be no help.

“Alexander Hamilton?”

John jumped up more quickly than Eliza could free her arms from around him, both of them ending up on the floor.

“Sorry!” John exclaimed to both Eliza and the nurse.  “Is Alexander okay?”

“Follow me, please.”

That sounded…not good.  John was panicking, breath hitching on the lump in his throat.  He couldn’t breathe.  He could feel himself shaking, terrified that they were being led to a lifeless Alexander.

He felt fingers lace through his own and looked over at Eliza, who squeezed his hand carefully.  He appreciated the gesture—it was grounding, feeling skin against his own.  He did, however, wish that it was Alexander’s skin pressed against his, the two of them pressed together in their bed—he prayed to the God of his childhood that he would ever be able to have Alexander in bed again.

They were led to an office rather than a room, and John’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest.  If Alexander was okay they would be taken to see him, right?

There was only one chair on the side of the desk for patients or families, so John gave it to Eliza and stood, trying not to have a complete breakdown.

It was a few more minutes before a doctor entered the room.

“Is Alexander okay?” John demanded before the man could even open his mouth.

The doctor didn’t answer John, looking instead at Eliza.  “Are you his girlfriend?”

Eliza looked surprised for a moment, then shook her head.  “No, I’m just a friend.  John is his boyfriend, though.”  She tugged gently on the sleeve of John’s sweatshirt.

For a moment John thought that the doctor was going to say something homophobic—he definitely had that look around him, like he wanted to say something that he knew that he shouldn’t—but then he inclined his head instead, looking grave.

“I’m sorry to have to inform you that Mr. Hamilton didn’t make it.”

John wasn’t entirely sure what happened after that.  He just knew that he was suddenly sitting on the floor, head on his knees.  He wasn’t crying, to his surprise.  He couldn’t cry.  He was too much in shock.

“Can I see him?” John heard himself ask.  “ _Please_?”

The doctor hesitated, but nodded.  “Only you for the moment, however.”

Eliza pecked John on the cheek, then headed to the waiting room, eyes glittering with tears.

John carefully got to his feet, shaking as he did so.  It was as if his very body could tell that Alexander was gone, as if something that had kept him stable and human had been ripped away, leaving only a fragile shell.

Alexander looked so peaceful, as if he was at true rest for the first time since John had met him.  But, at the same time, he was so pale, so deathly pale—of course he was; he was dead.

John took hold of Alexander’s hand—god, it was so cold.  He pressed kisses to the lifeless flesh, feeling just as cold and dead as his boyfriend in front of him.

There was so much to be done now.  He had to bury Alexander, and he was torn on that.  There were so many decisions to be made.

He had to—no, he couldn’t go home.  He couldn’t go back to the apartment, the bed, the life he had shared with Alexander.  There were too many memories there and it would hurt too much.

John pulled out his phone.

“John, mon ami!”  Lafayette sounded more bubbly than usual, but not excessively drunk.

“Can I come stay with you?  I can’t go home.”

“Of course.  Did you and Alexander fight?”

John stared at Alexander’s still face.  “I wish we had fought.”

“What do you mean?” Lafayette sounded incredibly concerned.

“Alexander’s dead, Laf.  He tried to kill himself again, and this time, he succeeded.”

“Mon Dieu.”  There was muffled shouting in the background on Lafayette’s side.  “Of course you can stay with me.  Do you want me to get you anything from your apartment?  Clothes, your laptop, anything else?”

“That would be great.  You choose, please.  And thanks, Laf.”

* * *

John was curled on Lafayette’s bed—Lafayette had gotten a single room that year—watching for them to come back and pretending that Alexander was still alive. 

He was playing distractedly with his phone when he thought of something.  He was sure that it was an awful idea, but he had to do it anyway.  He pressed the phone to his ear and waited for it to stop ringing.

“This is Alexander.  Sorry I missed you, but leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.  Thanks!”

Hearing Alexander’s voice was what finally broke John.  He started crying for the first time since finding out that Alexander was dead.

“You left me, sweetheart,” he choked out.  “I miss you so much already.  Just…knowing that I’ll never see you again, never hear your voice again, never hold you again…it’s tearing me apart.  For me, Alexander, don’t be dead.”

Begging wasn’t going to do anything.  Alexander was still dead.

* * *

It was another hour of staring blankly into space before Lafayette returned.  They handed John his backpack and laptop bag. 

“I chose the clothes pretty much at random and grabbed anything else that I thought you would want or need.  If there’s anything else, I can return.”

“Thanks,” John whispered.  Lafayette nodded slightly, then left the room.  John wasn’t sure where he was going, but he also didn’t really care.

He quickly went through his bags.  There wasn’t much worth noting, just things that Lafayette had grabbed out of his closet.  The one thing that made John pause, though, was a leather-bound journal.  It wasn’t his, so it made no sense.  Curious, he opened it.

_John—_

_I don’t really know how to say this.  I mean, if it was someone else, I’d say congratulations, but congratulating you on marrying me seems a bit much.  To be fair, as I’m writing this we’ve only just started dating, but I can tell we’re meant to be._

John threw the journal across the room.  He couldn’t be that near to Alexander’s words.  It hurt far too much.

And, as much as it was going to hurt, he had a phone call he had to make, as soon as possible.

* * *

John had underestimated just how pretty Nevis was going to be.  Alexander hadn’t talked about it much, so John wasn’t prepared for the sight of the island.  In some ways, it reminded him of South Carolina, but not enough to be unpleasant.  Of course, the situation was still less than ideal.

The others were there with him, too, naturally—someone had to attend Alexander’s funeral.  It wasn’t like many of the people Alexander had grown up around were going to go.  It was remarkable that they had even gotten a priest, seeing as the churches hadn’t been fond of Alexander or his mother.

Surprisingly, there was a large turnout, probably because so many of the people had contributed to the fund to send Alexander to the United States.

John clutched the piece of paper in his pocket.  He hadn’t told anyone that he was speaking, and he was almost regretting his decision. 

He stood when his name was called, legs shaking.  He could do this.  He had to do this.  It was for Alexander.

“For those of you who don’t know me, my name is John Laurens.  I didn’t know Alexander for nearly as long as I would have liked, but we were dating for most of that time.”  He fixed his eyes on his friends in the front row.  “I was with him when the accident occurred and I did my best to be there for everything he needed.  I know it sounds cheesy or whatever, but Alexander and I were meant to be.  I was there as soon as I could be after his first suicide attempt—I had been out of the state—I was there when his second attempt made him violently ill, and I got to hold him soon before he bled out on this last attempt.  But, despite the suicide attempts, Alexander was the strongest person I knew.  He fought through his impairment with more grace and courage than I ever could have—he did everything to the best of his abilities.  I am more than grateful to say that I loved Alexander Hamilton, and incredibly lucky to be able to say that he loved me back.  Alexander, wherever you are, know that I still love you and that I always will.”

John returned to his seat and immediately started crying.  He had managed to hold himself together while he had been speaking, but he couldn’t stay strong any longer.  Eliza slipped her hand into his and squeezed gently.

Peggy was the next person to rise, and, to John’s surprise, she wasn’t speaking.  “I didn’t know that Peggy could sing,” he whispered to Eliza through his tears, and she nodded. 

“She has a great voice.  And this is a beautiful song, although so sad.  Listen.”

_Remember me when I am gone away,_

_Gone far away into the silent land._

_When you can no more hold me by the hand,_

_Nor I half turn to go yet, turning, stay._

_Remember me when no more day by day_

_You tell me of our future that you planned;_

_Only remember me, you understand._

_It will be late to counsel then or pray;_

_Yet if you should forget me for a while_

_And afterwards, remember, do not grieve,_

_For if the darkness and corruption leave_

_A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,_

_Better by far you should forget and smile_

_Than that you should remember—_

_You understand—_

_Remember me and be sad._

That was pretty much everyone gone.  John, who had already been in tears, was sobbing into Eliza’s shoulder.

The next speaker wasn’t someone that John recognized, and, since he had missed his introduction, he didn’t even have a name to put to the man at the podium.

“To be perfectly honestly, I haven’t seen Alexander in almost ten years.”

“Who is this?” John whispered to Eliza.

“Alexander’s father,” she replied.  “James Hamilton.”

John frowned.  “Didn’t he walk out on Alexander and his mom?  When Alexander was like ten or something?”

Eliza nodded.  “Guess his guilt drove him back for the funeral.”

“I regret having left and not having been a larger part of my son’s life,” James continued.

Someone made a derisive noise—John thought it was Lafayette—and, although it was inappropriate for the situation, John couldn’t blame them.  James was clearly trying to gain sympathy, despite having none for his son.

John didn’t listen to the rest of James’ speech; he couldn’t. 

He didn’t remember much of the rest of the funeral, either; he was too busy trying to hold himself together.

All too soon, it was time to actually bury Alexander.  John had arranged for him to be buried next to his mother, which had been an almost agonizing decision to make.  He had wanted to bury Alexander in the cemetery near their apartment so that he could visit his grave, but he had known that burying Alexander with his mother in Nevis was the right thing to do.

* * *

After the funeral, John returned to South Carolina.  He hated being around his father, but, at the same time, he wasn’t ready to face the life he had shared with Alexander.

“How was your Caribbean trip?  Did you have a good time?” Henry asked as soon as John walked into the house.

“Well, given that I was at the funeral of the single person that I have loved the most in my entire life, no.  It sucked.”

Not willing to deal with his father any longer, John headed upstairs to his room.  He couldn’t handle life at the moment.  The funeral had drained him.

* * *

John was forced into the public eye long before he was even ready to handle a private life, only two days after returning from Nevis.  His father was attending some gala in the state capital and dragging his children along with him, as usual.  He knew how the people loved seeing his children, being reminded that their beloved senator was human, and he didn’t care if his children actually wanted to go.  Everything revolved around him.

“You do not talk about your sexuality, do you understand?” he hissed at John before the group entered the gala.  “This is not a group in which that will be any use whatsoever—in fact, it will be quite the opposite.  Do you understand me?”

John nodded.  He didn’t care at this point.  He didn’t care about much of anything.

* * *

The gala was just as boring as every other year.  Henry kept directing pretty girls at John and he would dance with them, wishing every single one of them was Alexander.  He had never gotten to dance with Alexander; he wished they had danced, at least once.  He would have brought Alexander to this gala and damn the consequences. 

“So, do you have a girlfriend up at college?” one girl asked flirtatiously.

“Not anymore.”  Technically, John had never had a girlfriend, but if it let him talk about Alexander…

“Oh, I’m sorry.  Who ended it?”  Probably judging how interested he’d be in a new relationship.

“Well.  I guess you could say she did.  She committed suicide about a week ago.”

That clearly wasn’t what the girl was expecting to hear, and her expression was almost comical.  “ _Oh_.  I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s not your fault.  She was mentally unstable.  There had been an accident and she had lost some capabilities, and Alexande— _Alexandra_ couldn’t handle it.  I did what I could to help.  It just wasn’t enough.”

_I just wasn’t enough._

* * *

John would spend his whole life trying to be enough.

He switched his major, intent on helping those suffering both as Alexander had, with depression and suicidal thoughts, and as he had, with losing a loved one.  He wasn’t going to let anyone else go through what they had, not if he could help it.

John never loved anyone again.  Alexander was still it for him, and any chances at new relationships were clouded over by the reminder of the love he had lost.

There were times when he almost followed Alexander, low and desperate to see his love again, but he never did.  He had to live the life that Alexander hadn’t gotten the chance to.

He had to live for Alexander.


End file.
